Serenato
by MidnightMelodic
Summary: "Demons have no sense of loyalty or conviction." Sebastian and OC.
1. Prologue

**This will not be a Mary Sue**. If you don't like OCs, read a different story. As much as I adore the Ciel/Sebastian pairing, it simply was not the subject matter I chose to write about. I am in no way a writer, in fact I almost never write except essays for school, so please, bare with me and be kind to this newbie. 3 Also, I don't own Kuroshitsuji. If I did, this fanfic wouldn't be a fanfic.

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Prologue  
England, 1888

_An explosion of vocal harmony seemed to shake the concert hall on its foundation and captivated every eye in the audience of more than six hundred spectators. The medley of two brazen, but saturated in pure femininity, voices mixed to create a whole new dimension of sound unlike anything every heard before. On stage, drenched in the gazes of adoring fans and first-time viewers alike, stood two brunette females, very similar in appearance yet different in all other ways imaginable. _

_The taller of the two, with wavy brown tresses pulled loosely yet elegantly into a bun, a stray lock of hair hanging to the side of her brow, held a firm back and rigid posture as she sang alongside the slightly shorter girl. She was a human of contradictions in herself: she was a woman by nature, wise and mature, but part of her was still a child, never quite given the chance to fully grow up; her blue eyes were cold but in no way filled with contempt; her temper was mild but her spirit screamed in indignation, burning with a fire hot enough to melt the first impressions perceived by anyone who truly knew her. She seemed rigid yet confident like her posture suggested, shoulders back and chin high. With each foreign word resonating from her crimson lips like steam rising from the London cobblestone roads on a sunny day after a hard rain, she pulled her listeners closer and closer and left them breathless and begging for more long after the song ended. _

_The other girl, a child in comparison to her partner, shared the same tresses of a brown sugar hue, yet instead of being confined to a bun they hung freely down her back in waves like rolling dunes of sand over a vast desert. Her eyes were large and silver, mirror-like and open. They were neither cold nor warm, but they were nonetheless welcoming and curious. In contrast to the other woman's thin figure, her build was soft and sensual, with fat evenly distributed in the most womanly places such as the thighs, abdomen and breasts. She was in no way rotund, but let it be clear that she was not slender. Her personality was often misperceived as reticent, but the truth was she was very, very lonely and craved human interaction of someone who saw her as more than a celebrity. Her voice displayed the longing she held inside, and it was said it was sadder than that of her partner and hearing it often dragged the listener into her world of loneliness. It was still beautiful nonetheless, and admired by many people all over London._

_The two women's names were Harmonia and Persephone. They were sisters, closely-knit, and chasing after the same dream. They both had an unquenchable thirst for the stage, for music, and for living life to the fullest. Their mother also held the same dream, but she was unable to fulfill it. She had passed away long before due to a hereditary illness that would one day also consume the life of one, perhaps even both, of her daughters. This was the story of a surviving child's quest naught for revenge, but for closure of an unfulfilled dream._


	2. Chapter 1: I Want to Live

((Hey, I'm still alive! :D Sorry for the long delay in getting this thing started. School + boyfriend + life = not much time to write (or maybe that's just my excuse.) ANYWAY, this chapter is about as condensed as can be, much to my dismay, but I promise it will get better. I didn't quite follow the anime/manga perfectly, but then again, this is an OC story so I'm going to take advantage of my creative liberty. Oh ho ho~ ))

Persephone scrutinized in silence the disgusting scene playing out in front of her. How filthy. Strangers clad in black moving in and out of the mansion like a colony of ants were making her feel sick. Her own black dress may have fit physically, but black was hardly a proper color for Persephone. Even in the sun, it felt like a storm cloud had chosen its temporary parking place in the sky right above her mansion – right on her life.

A lovely Spring day.

The last wake Persephone had been to was, ironically, her mother's. She still remembered that day in her mind like it happened only yesterday. She could remember all the black-clad strangers in her home, passing by with fake masks of sadness, expressing artificial condolences to the deceased's two daughters who were standing there in the foyer like displays in a museum. The two were survivors, and the thought scared them more than it brought relief. Now, on this day, Persephone got to experience this again, this time without her sister, because it was now her sister who was the deceased.

Did Persephone feel sad? Of course she did. However, her time of mourning had long passed, and it was now her duty to pick up the pieces her dead family had left behind. Her father, a concert pianist, had left them when her mother was pregnant with Persephone, so she couldn't even contact him if she wanted to. She was sure he was still gallivanting all over Europe, chasing French whores and drinking rich European wines. Persephone was sure he wouldn't have left if he had known his two daughters would become such successful singers. Thanks to the three womens' combined talent and fame, they were able to live a comfortable, mildly luxurious life. Many men had asked for Persephone's and Harmonia's mother's hand in marriage, but she had turned each and every one of them down. She knew she didn't need a man in her life to support her and her two daughters, which was something rare of the patriarchal Victorian era.

When the fatal, genetic disease known only as "The Dolor" consumed their mother, Persephone and Harmonia's lives were changed. Their two combined income from performances wouldn't be enough to maintain the cost of living they had been able to pay prior to their mother's death. Selling the house was out of the question, as doing so would dishonor all of their mother's hard work in building the unique mansion. Firing Beatrix the live-in vocal tutor was also impractical. Therefore, they came to the decision to fire all of the servants of the household except for Beatrix's personal maid, Abigail, whom they paid more to do extra work around the house. When Harmonia began to show symptoms of the disease, preparations were made right away to establish a will and a plan of action upon her death. What no one was prepared for was Harmonia's dying in only a month after showing the first symptoms. Their mother had lived for nearly three years with the disease, but the life expectancy was different for everyone. Persephone felt as though her life was like a ticking time-bomb, never knowing how long she would have to live or when she would get the disease, if she even got it at all.

Now, standing in an empty house long after the strangers disguised as guests had left to return to their homes, Persephone felt the wave of loneliness for the first time. The mansion was nestled in a valley, around ten miles (about 16 kilometers) from Oxford, near the small town of Abingdon. She was actually a bit surprised so many guests had arrived despite the mansion's remote location. It took about a half hour to travel to town by foot, but horse-drawn carriages made the trip shorter. Being so far from civilization, nestled on the west bank of the River Thames and shaded by the mansion's own garden-forest of elm and willow trees, hardly any sunlight permeated through the tall glass windows even in broad daylight. It was designed specifically for her mother's sensitive, fair skin; now it felt as if it was designed to keep the happiness out and the loneliness in.

"Miss Bertrand, Lady Beatrix would like to have a word with you in her room."

Persephone had almost forgotten Beatrix and her maid Abigail were still at the mansion with her. She knew they wouldn't be for long though, because Harmonia was dead and Beatrix wasn't going to waste her time training Harmonia's less-beautiful, less-talented, less-popular younger sister. If Persephone had died instead, Harmonia probably would have been able to make enough money to keep Beatrix, but Persephone just wasn't as famous as her older sister. It was only a matter of time before Beatrix would announce her resignation as her personal vocal tutor, and then both Beatrix and Abigail would leave Persephone alone in this giant mansion to fend for herself.

Persephone took a deep breath and twisted her face into an attempted smile, nodding at the maid in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Abigail."

The maid was a plain woman in her thirties with a tired face and a lank body to match. Her brown eyes drooped in a sort of melancholic way, with premature wrinkles starting to form under them. Her dark brown hair was even longer than Persephone's and she kept it in a tight bun atop her head. She always obeyed orders and was a no-nonsense kind of woman, but had looked after Persephone and Harmonia like they were her own. Abigail's own daughter had perished in a fire at only two years of age, along with her husband. Beatrix, despite the frigid woman she was, took pity on the widow and hired her as a personal servant. Abigail always showed kindness toward the girls even when Beatrix did not, and for that, Persephone loved her dearly. However, Persephone knew why she had been summoned to Beatrix's room. She swallowed hard.

Persephone received the news just as she had anticipated. It only took five minutes for Beatrix to explain to her that she was renouncing her position and why, although Persephone already knew why. She didn't blame Beatrix; people needed income to survive in this world. Even after the discussion had finished and the decision finalized, the calm look on Beatrix's painted, sagging, matronly face as she delivered the news stuck in her mind like glue. More people were leaving her life faster than she could keep up. What was the young woman to do? Would she live each day by herself and die alone? Would she be able to make enough money to feed herself? Would she be able to travel to London anymore? Was her career over? Nothing was for certain, but without properly training her voice, it was almost for certain she was doomed. She would either have to somehow train herself, or find someone to give her lessons for cheap. There was always the last alternative, one which Persephone hoped she could avoid at all costs: marriage.

Beatrix and Abigail didn't waste a single hour in packing their things to leave. Persephone could now see Beatrix's true motivation was not to train Persephone to be the best singer she could be, but to make money. In truth she would miss Abigail the most. It was Abigail who bathed Persephone every night, tucked her into bed, and it was Abigail who always lent Persephone a shoulder to cry on. However, Abigail was not officially Persephone's maid; she was under the service of Madam Beatrix. Therefore she had an obligation to follow Beatrix wherever she went.

The empty shell of a once warm house now sat on the earth like a forgotten toy, once Madam Beatrix and Abigail had moved out. The next few days were surprisingly manageable, but even the strongest of souls can drown in too much solitude; Persephone was no exception. By the weekend she found herself neglecting the garden, only getting out of bed to use the ladies room, and wasting her life away in sorrow. Canisters and jars and pallets of makeup sat on her vanity untouched since the day of the funeral. Her long hair looked like a rat's nest from not brushing it regularly. She wasn't strong enough to move Harmonia's bed out of the house by herself, so it sat across from hers every night, a cruel reminder of a life now gone. She was sick of looking at it. She was drowning in depression.

This wasn't Persephone. The real Persephone was a strong girl, fearless and confident. The only real things that frightened her were spiders. The real Persephone was full of life and love. It seemed to flow out of her presence and touch everyone around her... but if there was no one around for it to touch, what would be the point of even having it...? She missed her sister. She missed her mother. She missed Abigail, and Beatrix, no matter how cynical the old crow was. Her life was so empty without them; there was no point in moving on.

What did she have to live for?

It was a decision only a person clinging to the very fringes of sanity would make. What the tired woman-child was about to do was once an unthinkable thing to her. Absolute taboo. Desperation taking hold, it now seemed like a golden path to eternal peace and happiness. How would she do it? Poison? Suffocation? Blood loss? Hanging? Drowning? Burning? Poison would be the cleanest way, but it would probably be a slow, painful death. Sitting alone in her bed with the covers draped neatly over her pale legs, ashen brown hair falling down her nude back in a disheveled manner, her silver eyes were fixed on her nightgown lying on the wood floor in a crumpled pile. She hadn't bothered to put anything back on the last time she bathed. The thick drapes on her bedroom window were shut so to block out as much sun as possible, however small slivers of sunlight danced along the floor and walls – the only light that could enter the room. Her mind wandered aimlessly like a raft lost at sea.

She found herself standing in front of her reflection in the large dressing mirror on the other side of the room. The mirror had three panels, allowing her to see her ugly, pitiful self from three different angles. She could barely make out her soft form in the dim light, and that was okay. Her dry lips opened and out came apologies to her mother, her sister, Beatrix and Abigail. She apologized to her fans, she apologized to seemingly everyone she ever knew. She was sorry. Sorry she had lived instead of her sister or mother. Her fist met with the middle panel in a quick, sudden motion and glass exploded in every which way. Burning, hot pain seared her skin but she felt more alive than she had in days. From the shards of many sizes now littering the floor like snow, she analyzed each and every one, finally pinpointing on the _perfect _one. She reached a bloody hand down and lifted it up with her nails, placing it gently on the palm of her other hand. This wasn't quite the cleanest method.

How should she start? Where?

_ Slash._

Her body didn't wait for her mind to make a decision. In a quick motion, she made a long cut down her forearm. Blood began to ooze. It wasn't deep enough.

_ Slash._

This was more of a stabbing motion at her wrist. It brought tremendous pain, and she could feel a sliver of glass break off deep inside. Warm, red liquid bubbled from the wound like a geyser, pouring onto the ground in large drops and splattering onto her feet. How invigorating.

_ Slash._

Another cut, this time to the delicate flesh of her throat. This was the winning mark. As much pain as she was in, all she could think about was being with her family: her mother and her sister. The amount of blood pouring from her wounds was beginning to affect her consciousness and she stumbled forward. The pain was now a numb, warm feeling, like how one feels when taking a hot bath. Her feet crunched the shards still lying on the floor, digging into the soles of her feet and adding to the injuries. Suddenly she fell forward, head-first into the other mirror panel. She blacked out.

_ "Persy, what on earth are you doing?"_

_ "Just look at yourself, Persephone dear! You're a mess. How are you going to perform looking like that? You ruined your beautiful skin."_

_ "Mother, I think she's trying to tell us she misses us. Quite a way to tell us, indeed!"_

_ "Now, Persephone, my dear, I don't want you giving up hope just yet. We may be gone, but the fact that you're still here is what should drive you to be your best. Throwing your life away certainly doesn't make you your best, does it?"_

_ "Yeah, Persy. You wouldn't want to dishonor our deaths, would you?"_

_ "Would you, Persephone?"_

The dying girl couldn't believe she was hearing her mother and her sister speak to her again. How could she be sure she wasn't just being delirious from the blood loss? Apparition or not, she knew they were right. Suicide was a coward's way out. It didn't bring any honor to her family's deaths. She suddenly didn't want to die. She loved life. She loved herself. It was too late, however. If she didn't get help right away, she would surely die. The nearest person was over two miles away, and she didn't have the strength to get to the telephone. It would all be over soon.

"I don't.." she began in a hoarse voice, blood starting to trickle from the corner of her mouth as she lay in a bloody mess on the floor. "...want to... die... someone, please..." Her eyes closed tight. With every last ounce of energy she had left in her broken body, she screamed, "**I want to live!**"

A tickle on her cheek.

Something soft had landed on her cold cheek, and another on the ground in front of her. In the dim light she could see the soft things were, strangely enough, black feathers. And they were falling all around her.

She heard footsteps approaching her. _Click.. click.. click... _They grew nearer and nearer. Lying on her side, she could only see the feet of the phantom walking toward her. Was this the Grim Reaper coming for her soul? The feet stopped only inches from her face. They were black, pointed boots with a long, thin heel. The feathers that were falling grew in volume, and looking up a bit she could see they were falling from a pair of beautiful, black wings. She felt as if she were in the presence of an angel. Whoever this person was definitely wasn't of this world. It terrified her as much as it amazed her.

"My, my," came the smooth, masculine voice of the mysterious angel. "What have we here, Persephone? This is.. quite unlike you." The tone of his voice was a clue he had a grin on his face. "I'm assuming you've changed your mind about death. It's not as pretty as you imagined it, is it?"

Persephone didn't know what to say. Her time on this earth was running short, and all of this could be just a hallucination. Perhaps this phantom was a demon coming to take her soul to Hell. With labored breathing, she gasped, "I don't want to die... Please, help me... Please..."

The figure crouched down next to her. She still couldn't see his face, but she could see long, black hair resting on his shoulders. He placed a hand on Persephone's injured forehead, and to her fright she felt sharp nails gently resting on her skin. The creature chuckled. "Well, Persephone. Today is your lucky day. I'm going give you an offer, and you may accept it or reject it as you please." He moved his face closer to her ear, now speaking in a low growl, "I will grant you your life if you give me your soul in return. However, once someone has rejected faith, it is impossible for him to enter the Gates of Heaven. Knowing the consequences of your decision, are you willing to form a contract with me?"

Faith was something Persephone had never been closely involved in. She went to church only for weddings and funerals, and nothing more. Surely she wasn't going to Heaven anyway. "... Yes. I am willing." Anything to keep on living, she would try. "You are a... demon, no?"

The creature didn't respond. Persephone couldn't see exactly what was happening but she knew he had just transformed into something smaller. Straining her neck to see, she saw a black crow with eyes of a glowing ruby hue perched atop her vanity. Things were getting stranger and stranger. The room grew darker and all around her, a glowing white light somehow carved itself onto the floor in the shape of a pentagram, causing a flood of warmth to enter her body. For a brief moment she forgot about her pain as she closed her eyes. The crow asked her, "From the moment the contract is sealed, you shall be my master and I will fulfill every wish and desire you order me to. Now, to seal the contract, please give me a name."

A name..? Persephone had lost so much blood that she shouldn't have even been conscious, and he wants her to come up with a name? "Demon, did you have previous owners?"

"Yes," was all he responded.

The tired girl was somewhat relieved. "Well, then... What did they call you?"

The crow was silent for a moment before saying one word: "Sebastian."

"Then that shall be your name, Sebastian."

The last thing Persephone could remember was a searing hot pain in the back of her neck.


	3. Chapter 2: One Hell of a Butler

Wow, sorry about that. Two months later I finally decide to spit out another chapter. It's a bit short. I wanted to get their introductions and stuff out of the way so I can begin the actual story! Also, I need suggestions on what Sebby should call Persy. Mistress sounds too naughty, so I chose young miss (I know if this were an anime he'd be calling her ojou-sama, so I wanted something equivalent.) If there's something better he could be calling her, let me know!

I don't own Kuroshitsuji or Sebastian, but I do own Persephone.

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He took a long, pensive look at his new temporary place of residence. It was a big mansion, well-crafted and beautiful, but a bit smaller than the ones he was used to. All the easier to keep maintained, he supposed. The dark, burgundy, velvet walls combined with the rich mahogany used for the flooring and staircase created an air of coziness while still upholding grace and sophistication. The entire inside was dimly lit by what little light that came through the windows, and that's why there was a lamp placed every twenty feet or so along the walls.

Outside, the thick stone walls were heavily cloaked with ivy as if it had been neglected for years. The garden was overgrown, on purpose, so it wouldn't need that much work. He admired the shade and serenity of the trees and foliage. It must have been a perfect oasis from the heat during the summer months. The sound of birds chirping and insects buzzing about were the only sounds to be heard.

Glancing past the garden and through a small gate colored in faded white paint, one could see a grassy knoll about a half-acre in size with a single oak tree placed directly in the center. It must have been there for at least a hundred years, judging by its size and gnarled branches. The leaves were alive and of a vibrant green, typical of the Spring season. Beyond the grass were more trees, and a downhill slope leading to a babbling brook. A gentle, cool wind completed the fairytale-esque scene.

His thin lips twisted into a contented smile. Adjusting a white glove with his other hand, he stood outside the bedroom door of his new master. He couldn't help but become increasingly overwhelmed with a feeling of deja vu. It was exciting, exhilarating.

The demon butler known as Sebastian Michaelis entered Persephone's bedroom with a small vial of liquid in his coat pocket.

The condition the female was in was a pitiful one at that, however much less pitiful than the one he had found her in. She slept - moreso laid unconsiously - in her bed, covered in bandages from head to toe. The floor was completely clean of any sign of blood, glass or dirt. Only one bed remained in the room, the one currently occupied by Persephone. This could only be the work of a demon.

Sebastian calmly kneeled beside the sleeping teen, slipping one hand into his coat pocket to retrieve the vial while the other hand brushed a few stray hairs from her mouth. "Young miss, it's time for you to take your medicine," he told her, gently nudging her arm.

For the first time in almost five hours, Persephone stirred beneath the clean, white sheets she had been tucked into. Sebastian was anticipating formally introducing himself as her butler. She felt extremely light-headed as her eyes slowly opened, and was somewhat startled to see a strange man hovering over her. She instinctively tried to move away from him, but was met with a flood of pain from all over her body. Then, suddenly like a tidal wave, memories of what she had done filled her mind. She choked out wearily, "I-It's you, isn't it?"

"It is. Please try not to be alarmed. Your injuries are quite serious, so it would be best if you didn't put any stress on your body," he replied calmly, sensing her tension. He took the cap off the vial, holding it up to her face. "You need to drink this to recover your strength. I shall prepare a dessert as well to restore the blood you've lost."

Persephone normally wouldn't accept medicine of any kind, but she really didn't have the energy to refuse. She slowly opened her mouth and allowed the butler to poor the liquid into it. It was extremely bitter, and her face screwed up in distaste. However, she forced herself to swallow it down. "That was rather unpleasant," she commented.

The butler grinned, and stood up. "Then I shall prepare a dessert now. Do you have any preferen-"

"Strawberry shortcake," she ordered, before he even could finish his question.

He liked her enthusiasm. Judging by her ample figure, he concluded she wasn't one to turn down any sort of dessert. Or perhaps he was being too assuming. "Very well, young miss. I shall make haste. Please, try to relax in the meantime."

Persephone sunk into the sea of blankets and pillows after he had bowed and made his leave. She didn't even know where to begin with her thoughts. Was he really a demon? Did he really just save her from certain death? She didn't quite get a good look at his appearance in the dim light of the bedroom, but she could sense he had a tall frame and dark hair. His voice was smooth, and he sounded intelligent. Her previous servants, a butler and a maid, were both middle-aged and fragile – a stark contrast from this new servant. In fact, he was almost _too _good looking to be a butler. If he was a demon, like he had made her believe, then that would explain his exceptional talent. Suddenly she sat up.

The large mirror that had been reduced to shards only a few hours ago now sat whole again across the room. She just realized it. Even more shocking, the bed that used to belong to her sister was gone. How that butler, by himself, managed to move such a behemoth was beyond her. She was starting be more and more convinced he was a real demon in human form. "What have I gotten myself into," she muttered to herself, right before Sebastian had returned with her dessert.

"Ah, I see you're feeling better. Please enjoy this dessert, young miss," he said eloquently and placed a tray on her lap. He stood by her bedside with a straight back, his hands rigidly by his sides in a manner of pure sophistication.

Persephone found his demeanor to be quite intimidating, so nervously she picked up a fork and held it over a strawberry. The dessert, however, looked wonderful. It was almost too beautiful to eat. Stabbing into a plump strawberry, she brought it to her face and popped it in her mouth. "Mmm," she blushed and chewed with satisfaction. It was very sweet and juicy.

Sebastian continued to stand motionless as she ate. He was happy his new master was pleased with his cooking. Glancing down, he noticed how her frazzled hair somewhat stood up in the back, and the way her cheeks lit up in contentment as she enjoyed her sweets. It was nice to see some color back on her skin.

She placed the fork down on the empty plate with a _ting _once she was finished_. _"Yum," she told him, and he could only guess that was her way of showing appreciation. The butler was about to reach down and remove the tray from her lap when she grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened in curiosity. She loosened her grip a bit; she didn't notice she had grabbed him so firmly. "I.. I want you to turn the light on, so I can see you."

As she let go of him, he grinned. "Ah, forgive me, young miss. How rude of me to be so inconsiderate. Let me just open these drapes then.."

What Persephone saw shocked her.

In the soft, glowing light of the early dusk, she saw her demon clearly for the first time. The thing that caused her to gasp upon sight was his eyes. They were of a deep crimson hue, and in the warm light they seemed to glow. His skin was pale and translucent like porcelain, with soft, raven hair that fell gently to the sides of his face. He was a very beautiful man, so beautiful it was monster-like. Placing a white gloved-hand on his chest, he bowed with such elegance it caused her to freeze. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis, and from today on, I shall be your butler till the very end."

"Till the very end," Persephone repeated for a reason unknown to her. With the room filled with light, Sebastian wasn't the only thing she could see clearly. She shifted her gaze downwards to her arms in front of her. The bandages were stained a deep reddish-brown, a reminder of her own cowardliness and stupidity.

Sebastian noticed the girl looking at her bandages. "Do your bandages need changing, young miss?"

Persephone smiled emptily. "I suppose. You're really on top of things, aren't you?"

The butler's lips curved into a grin. "I thank you for such a compliment, but, after all... I am just one Hell of a butler."

Suddenly Persephone exploded into a fit of laughter. "Ahaha! That's quite a dumb line coming from someone like yourself," she mocked, finally calming down after a few more moments of laughter. She could tell by his expression he was not pleased. "Oh, I joke. It was just.. surprising, that's all."

Was this girl really mocking him? How fun his new master would be. "No offense taken, young miss. However, I hope you know your bare breasts have exposed to me since the moment you sat up."


	4. Chapter 3: Off to a Rough Start

Let me explain my terribly long absence. I almost completely trashed the story, because I realized I hated how things were going to turn out. There wasn't any conflict or plot whatsoever, and it was going to end up being a blatant Mary Sue after all. After remaking the plot at least 3 times, I've completely changed the story and added more canon characters. It's not going to be a perfect OC story, but I'm really trying. Sorry for taking so long to do all this.

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"There is one important thing I'd like to show you," Persephone explained, leading Sebastian down the hall from her bedroom. She was dressed in a dark blue bath robe – hardly something a lady should be casually walking around the house in – but her injuries could allow for an exception.

Sebastian trailed behind her, keeping silent as she spoke. When he first surveyed the home, he had familiarized himself with every room except the one he was being lead to. It probably held something important. The room sat at the very end of the hallway, two gaudy stone busts placed on either side of the massive, twin doors.

The key the young lady held in her hand was surprisingly small for the size of the door, and she finally managed to unlock it after a bit of effort. She pushed the doors open while forcing a sheepish smile. "Please don't mind the mess. It's been a while," she paused, craning her neck as if scanning the room for monsters, "... since I've been inside."

Magnificent.

Sebastian would have never imagined a room in this house to be so full of stuff, if he were to base his assumptions off the rest of the mansion. He took note of the wood the heavy door was crafted out of: It was mahogany, like most of the wood in the house, but it was a lighter colour with more of a pink hue. Since mahogany darkens with age, it was obvious this door had been replaced recently. Either that, or the room originally didn't have a door and one was installed within the past few years.

The scent of knowledge and antiquity locked behind the heavy doors was overpowering to the demon's senses. The air inside the room was stale and dank, similar to that of a library but mixed with the faint scent of old potpourri. While this wasn't the mansion's library, bookshelves that reached the tall ceilings were stacked along the western wall, completely full of music books and sheet music whose gold bindings seemed to give off a faint, incandescent warmth in the muted light escaping from behind the white gossamer curtains. A black grand piano sat boldly in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few stools with various string instruments on their stands next to them. It was nothing short of a miniature practice hall.

Opposite from the tall, narrow window with the silky curtains sat a massive, hefty desk with a high-backed, white leather chair equal in scale to match. One thing most peculiar was that the desk was faced toward the wall, away from the window. A pile of letters, envelopes and various writing utensils sat in piles atop the desk, almost covering the polished glass surface of the desk entirely and overflowing onto the floor. It seemed the wooden file cabinets standing adjacent to the large desk hadn't been used at all.

It was day three, and this was the only room the butler hadn't yet been in. It was locked from the inside so he thought it best not to enter. After all, his master probably had it locked for a reason. Everything in the room was covered with a fine layer of dust from weeks of neglect. An empty wine glass sat abandoned on the edge of the desk. There was a lot of cleaning to be done here.

He took a quick look at his pocketwatch; it was exactly four o'clock in the afternoon. This left little time to begin tidying up before dinner preparations. He slowly stepped further into the room, looking around curiously. "I will assume this is your music room?" His eyes landed on the oddly-positioned desk, raising a thin eyebrow. "... And perhaps your study, as well?"

Upon only receiving a chuckle as a response, he turned around to find Persephone still at the entrance of the room. She didn't appear too comfortable. "What is the matter? Are your wounds hurting you?" He took a step toward her.

"N-no, not at all," she replied, batting her hand nervously. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. She realized how undignified her actions were. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she finally professed, "I must admit I'm not too fond of this room, Sebastian."

Such awkward creatures humans were. This was the conclusion given to the demon by all his collective experiences with dealing with them. He couldn't help but feel a slight smidgen of pity at this particular one; everything about her was awkward. Nothing really seemed in-place with the human known as Persephone Bertrand. Her face, plain and childlike, didn't match her mature and buxom physique. Her mannerisms and speech were slightly lagging that of other noble persons'. There was no doubt she was genuinely benevolent, but her docile personality was almost boring, and forced. Most of all, she was naïve. If there was a true side to her, he hoped it would emerge soon. He didn't much care for bland-tasting souls.

Realizing he was being rude by micro-analyzing her on the spot, he decided to pry into her head. "It's just a little dusty, that's all. What makes you dislike this room?" He cocked his head slightly, a lock of straight, black hair falling across his forehead.

The teenager was shifting her bare, bandaged feet nervously. Her gaze remained lowered to the ground. Once again, her pseudo-confidence had disintegrated. "There are a number of reasons, I suppose. I know it's no good to dwell on the past, but this room holds so many overwhelming memories of my life with my family," she said quietly. "And the things I could have been... I could have been as talented as my elder sister if I really worked hard at it." Pausing to glance out the window, she let out a small sigh. "But I didn't. I let her have the spotlight on purpose, because I just wanted to live a normal life.

"I enjoyed being on the stage. I honestly did! Even if I wasn't the main attraction, people still came to see _us_ perform – not one of us, but both of us. My mother said my voice complimented my sister's. I never believed her, until mine and Harmonia's final performance together. That night, I finally felt like I was part of the show, instead of feeling like I was just extra luggage. It was a beautiful feeling, Sebastian. It was as if I had known that would be our last time together on stage."

Sebastian had to use effort to stifle a grin that was slowly building up within him. _That's it, tell me more. Let yourself discover who you truly are, silly child_, he thought with devilish glee as he listened to her speak.

Then, suddenly, she stopped speaking and slowly raised her gaze up to his face without lifting her head. She was checking to see his expression. It was ever so placid, as usual, and it brought a feeling of uneasiness to her. The last thing she wanted to do was bother him with an excessively long story about her life. "I apologize," she said sheepishly, face turning red.

"Why so?" came the butler's easy-going reply. "You need not feel ashamed talking to me. I am here to serve you, after all. It will be your soul I devour in the end." He smiled coyly and took a few steps closer to her. His tall frame loomed over hers, right on the border of beginning to invade her personal space. "The more passionate your feelings are, the richer the flavour of your soul will be."

Persephone stared straight ahead, her eyes seemingly locked onto his chest. It was as if she was seeing clear past him. Finally, she took a step to the right and walked around him, conquering her fears of being inside the room. The conversation had turned awkward and uncomfortable and she wanted to move onto the matter she brought him here for. With newly-found confidence she marched over to the window and threw open the drapes, instantly filling the room with a bright light. The view from the window was something she hadn't seen in years; it was a view of the garden from the top. Unlike most of the windows of the house, there were no trees or heavy curtains blocking this one. It was therefore the brightest room in the house – a great oasis of light in a house full of darkness. From here she could see the fish pond, and the canopies of the large weeping willows that stretched their branches like an umbrella across the stone walkways, providing the greatest amount of shade.

"It's my light now, Sebastian," she said with her back toward him, hands placed firmly on the dusty windowsill.

He cocked an eyebrow, wondering if she was referring to the physical light inside the room. What an odd thing to say.

Turning around, the stout girl had a look of fiery determination in her eyes. "Y-you said you'd fulfill any wish of mine. Therefore, I've decided I-I'm going to be the best singer in Britain. I will surpass the level of my mother and sister. From now on, the show w-will be about _me_." Her voice was shaking, and her attempt at confidence ended up as a display of awkwardness. Even so, the raw tenacity in her eyes was clear.

Wondering what exactly had brought all of this on, Sebastian couldn't say he wasn't surprised. Different humans had different desires, and she was just as entitled to hers as everyone else. This was really what she wanted. As her servant, he was obliged to give it to her. "Are you sure you have what it takes? It will take much work on your part," he told her.

"I am aware of that," came her bold retort. Walking over to the desk, she slid open the top left drawer and began digging around for something. Finally she pulled out something small and of a dark silver shimmer. She held it in the palm of her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking it over in the light. Her face was stern as she scrutinized every detail of the mysterious object. "This will have to do."

The butler watched in curiosity as she walked up to him and affix the small object to the lapel of his coat. From above, it appeared to be a ladies' brooch in the shape of a cat's head, complete with ears and whiskers. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why she would ask him to wear something so silly and feminine. "My lady, what is this..?"

"I-It's a brooch, of course. To show who you're working for," she said very matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious.

Sebastian blinked a few times, a long stretch of silence keeping things delightfully awkward. "I work for a cat...?" As much as he didn't mind working for a feline, he found it hard to believe that this human was capable of metamorphosism.

Persephone had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from becoming irritated with him. She placed her hands on her hips and titled her head to the side. "Do I look like a cat, Mr. Sebastian?"

She was a fun one to toy with.

He took extra care to make sure he appeared to genuinely consider her question. He eyeballed her from head to toe, folding his arms and stroking his chin with his fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he responded in a dull tone, "I would have to say no, my lady. In fact, your mannerisms more closely resemble that of a... well, never mind that. In all seriousness, what made you chose this type of brooch?"

"It was the only thing in the drawer," she replied casually, completely serious. "We don't have a family crest. That is my favourite brooch, though."

_ Aha_.

He touched it gently with his gloved fingertips. "Well then, I greatly appreciate this, my lady. I shall try my best to help you reach your goals, to the very end." He knelt down, bowing his head in respect.

Persephone's eyes widened at the sudden display of formality. Not knowing what to do, she inched closer to him, very slowly. Then she gingerly patted him on the head, much like a dog. Sebastian, whose eyes were closed, opened his eyes and blinked a few times, staring at the ground with his head still lowered. Was she raised by monkeys? The butler was actually beginning to feel sorry for this young lady's social ineptitude.

* * *

It wasn't one of the nicer streets in east London.

Rows of run-down buildings sat crunched together, battered and shaken by years of weather and neglect. The bricks and stones on most of these buildings were peeling and stained with soot from the earlier days of the industrial revolution, and the structures themselves seemed crooked and bent. The cobblestones leading down the street at an steady decline were damp with rain. It was just after dark, and a fine mist had settled onto the street, a foreshadowing of the thick fog that was going to creep inland later that evening.

Amongst the row of shops lining the northern side of the street was a particularly gloomy looking business front, even more gloomy than the rest. The walls were cracked and veiled with a patchy layer of spiderwebs whose silky fibers glistened with rain drops. In daylight, no children with the slightest bit of common sense dared to play in the area, save for the few mischievous ones who wanted to test their bravery. A headstone in the shape of a cross sat out front, and a coffin stood propped up against the wall next to the dilapidated, creaky, entrance door. On a sign, in elegant lettering unfitting for the local area, was the foreboding word: Undertaker.

A soft glow illuminated the frosted windows from within, signifying activity inside.

"This young lady was a _guest_ here only a few weeks ago," came a withered, crackly voice that belonged to a man clad in black robes, a black hat and long silver hair that covered his eyes. He was content with sitting perched atop a coffin, sipping tea from a skull-shaped cup. "And that one right there, I remember her from many years back! I don't recognize that little one, though..."

A man wearing a black suit with thick-rimmed glasses was holding a photograph of three females out to the man with the odd voice: one appeared to be in her mid-thirties, one was clearly a teenager, and the other looked no older than eight years old. They all looked related. The man nodded, returning the photograph to the inside pocket of his coat. His demeanor and actions were very stiff, and his face was stern. "The mother and eldest sister are dead then," he stated precisely, taking out a small book and thumbing through the pages. "Dorothy and Harmonia Bertrand, I see. Would you happen to know the name of Dorothy's youngest daughter?"

The strange man known as the Undertaker let out a throaty cackle of a laugh. "I only bother to acquaint myself with the dead, Mr. Spears. You should know that." He reached to his left and picked up a small jar, taking off the lid and pulling a peppermint candy from it. "I do know something, however.. that both of those women had a talent. The public was quite shaken by their deaths. Don't you keep up with the news?"

William T. Spears grimaced slightly in anger, his brows furrowed. "I don't have time to worry about trivial affairs like that, sir." He clapped his book shut, bringing his arms down to his sides. As much as he respected his higher-up, he still found himself often annoyed with his eccentric antics. He stood rigid like a toy soldier as he adjusted his glasses. "I suppose I could read a newspaper to find out her name."

The Undertaker grinned. "I think it starts with a P.." he said, stroking his chin. "Pomegranate? No.. Persimmon? I'm terribly sorry, but it seems my mind has drawn a blank..."

William had enough with this. After all his years of working with this odd fellow, he knew he wasn't going to be able to extract information out of him easily. He cleared his throat, and finally announced, "I appreciate your time, sir, but there's nothing more to discuss here. May you have a good evening."

"Good luck~" sang the Undertaker, popping another candy into his mouth. Before William's hand had even touched the door handle, he called out to him, "Elijah will be a tough one to look for, Will."

The man named William T. Spears only nodded his head in acknowledgment before stepping outside the door into the mist. Despite being a death god, there were still some things that seemed out of his control. He was angry at himself, as belonging to the Dispatch Management Division, for letting this particular situation get so out of hand.

Staring off into the distance down the street that was illuminated in the dull glow of gas street lamps, he was silently cursing to himself.

_ "Just where have you been all these years, Elijah?"_


	5. Chapter 4: London

((Writing this chapter was painful (but holy crap, it took less than 4 months to update). I might have put too much into one chapter, but I was scared of writing too little. I guess this chapter is more of the "part 2" of the last chapter. Alas, if you like it, leave a review. If you don't, leave a review anyway. ))

* * *

There comes a time in every great man's life where he is forced to do things he might not agree with morally. For example, stalking a teenage girl from outside her home.

William T. Spears was not exempt from this truth.

It was a good two hours to reach the small town of Abingdon by steam train, if one considered the numerous stops at stations and delays due to human error. The reaper certainly wasn't any less flustered when he arrived at the tiny little town that reeked of sheep dung and leather. The surrounding fields with plants in full-bloom were a beautiful sight to behold, but the tremendous amount of pollen they produced was enough to leave the poor reaper reaching for his handkerchief every minute or so.

He was still baffled why any upper class family would decide to live in the middle of nowhere, amongst farms and shepherds and rolling fields. Privacy might have been the biggest influence, but even so, the land out here was certainly thick with working-class blood. This was really no place for elegant young ladies.

Arriving at the mansion was another good hour, which sat even further away from civilization. By this time, William was tired and cranky from travel. There was not a single smooth road from Abingdon to the mansion it seemed, and the carriage swayed and shook violently the entire way there. He was regretting not bringing a companion to talk to. Looking out the narrow window of the carriage, he could see they were passing endless rows of green-leafed vegetables growing low to the ground, most likely sugar beets. The sky was blue, the air was clear, and life just seemed easy out in these rural parts, despite the unrelenting stench of manure.

The carriage was approaching what appeared to be a thick line of trees along the bank of a rather full creek. It was like a hidden oasis placed in the middle of farm lands. The natural barrier of leafy, deciduous trees stretched on quite a ways down the creek, forming a lovely little grove along the water. Nestled tightly amongst the vegetation was something large and solid, camouflaged by elm and hornbeam trees. As the carriage descended into this small valley, William could finally see what it was.

It was a mansion.

That is, it was a mansion surrounded by many trees, so many that the house itself was almost completely camouflaged behind the thick, leafy foliage. He had heard stories of fair-skinned ladies building houses underground to escape the sunlight, but never had he seen trees planted so thick that it achieved the same effect. It was truly a sight to behold.

He was glad to have been finally let off the carriage, and he had to take a moment to regain his balance after the bumpy ride. He hastily paid the driver and, with his "scythe" in hand, quickly started toward the side of the large house. Everything was so overgrown, he was unsure if the home was still occupied. His leads (by that I mean Undertaker) had told him this was the address of the Bertrand family (after much persuasion), and unless the youngest one had moved, she should still be living here. He wanted to avoid confrontation if possible, so that he may scout the premises for any signs of information before needing to bother the young lady himself.

"Can I help you?"

A smooth voice arose from the quietness of nature. The reaper stood frozen in his tracks. The voice he had just heard behind him was all too familiar. He slowly turned around.

"Y-y-you...!" he cried out, pointing his finger at the one person he hoped to never see again in his life.

Sebastian Michaelis was calmly approaching the reaper. He tilted his head to the side and gave the trespasser a warm smile. It was smiles like these that made him all the more intimidating, not that dispatch management supervisor William T. Spears would admit he felt the slightest bit of intimidation. The demon's face remained pleasant as he asked calmly, "It certainly has been a while, hasn't it? Did you miss me so much that you felt it was necessary to trespass onto my master's property like a criminal? I'm so flattered, Mr. Spears."

The reaper clenched his gardening-tool-turned-scythe tightly in his black-gloved hand, gritting his teeth while trying to uphold a professional disposition. He adjusted his glasses, what Sebastian said finally sinking in. "... Your master?"

This couldn't be happening. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. If his assumptions were correct, that would mean... _It can't be_, he thought, a feeling of dread building up within.

Sebastian merely nodded, ignoring Mr. Spears' obvious onset of distress. "You heard me correctly. Now, would you mind telling me what business you have here?"

William narrowed his eyes, the sun reflecting off his glasses. "Would your master... or shall I say, 'mistress' happen to be... Ms. Persephone Bertrand?" He suddenly sneezed.

Sebastian, looking thoughtfully up at the clouds in the distant, blue sky, crossed his arms. He tapped his chin in thought. "I wonder, if I said yes, what would your reaction be?" He gave a coy smile. "And then, I'd have to wonder what sort of trouble she was in with the Organization?"

"She's not in any trouble," came the reaper's icy reply, dabbing his nose with a plain, white handkerchief. "Her father is the one who's in trouble."

This piqued the butler's interest. "Oh?"

"_Honestly, why should I have to explain myself to a gadfly like you,_" said William under his breath, intentionally being loud enough for Sebastian to hear. "If you must know, her father is under arrest by the Death Dispatch Organization."

"Oh..?"

"... Her father is a death god."

"And?"

William could feel his blood pressure rise every second he wasted explaining himself. "And, he's under arrest for ending the lives of two humans not on the list, and also for abandoning and abusing his supervisor position."

Sebastian grinned and chuckled softly. He obviously found something to be quite amusing. "So tell me, Mr. Spears, how long has your Organization been on the search for this maverick comrade of yours?" Part of him knew the answer already; he just wanted to hear it from the disgruntled death god.

The bespectacled shinigami adjusted his classes with the blades of his death scythe, as it was a frequent habit of his. He swallowed before giving a disinclined answer. "... Nineteen years, to be exact."

"My, my, that's an awful long time to be searching for a single employee," Sebastian mused. "It certainly goes to show the inefficiency of your Organization, does it not?"

Fighting the urge to abandon his civility and attack the impudent demon, William calmly responded, "The reason for this case is not our inability, but more-so Elijah's _guile_."

"Elijah is his name? I see."

By this time, William was growing fed up with talking to a creature he despised more than anything. No business was getting accomplished by useless chit-chat. The overpowering odor of animal dung didn't help his frustration and disgust. "It is necessary I speak with Ms. Bertrand in order to find information pertaining to Elijah's whereabouts."

"I'm afraid you won't be speaking with her today, I regret to inform you." The butler uncrossed his arms and hung them down straight at his side. "She seems to have overindulged on today's lunch, and is therefore enjoying a nap."

The reaper nearly dropped his scythe.

"B-but I've come such a long way to get here! From two hours on a train, only to arrive in this filthy dog's-bollocks of a town, and then the whiplash-inducing ride on a dirty old carriage driven by some cheeky old geezer who thought I was 'dressed awfully nice for a tree-pruner'..." William ranted, finally losing his temper. He wasn't about to be told he came all the way out here for nothing. "And why in the world is the odor of dung so strong? The last animal I passed was miles down the road!"

Swallowing the urge to laugh, Sebastian's face remained serene. "I apologize. However, I cannot allow you to see my lady without first requesting permission. Waking her from her slumber is entirely out of the question."

William's jaw quivered as he was slowly breaking down, piece by piece. What a nuisance! There was no way getting around this vermin. His tense shoulders relaxed, and his entire body seemed to slump over in defeat. "If there's no helping it, then I suppose I can wait."

"I'm very sorry, but I won't have unwanted guests lingering around like flies," said Sebastian quite matter-of-factly. He crossed his arm over his chest and bowed. "Now, if you'd please be on your way, I won't be enticed to use force."

"Very.. Very well, then," said the defeated death god, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small, rectangular piece of paper. He reluctantly handed it to the butler. "Please deliver this business card to your lady. You can do that much for me, I hope."

Sebastian received the card and stared at it in his hand. "My, what a familiar piece of paper. Have I seen one of these before?"

William's eyebrow twitched in contempt. Ignoring the demon's sarcasm, he bowed only slightly. "I will return at a time that's more favourable." With that, he turned to head back to where the carriage was parked waiting for him.

Before he was out of sight (and out of earshot), he could hear Sebastian's voice calling after him. He didn't look back.

"Oh, and Mr. Spears! If you're wondering about the stench of dung, I believe the answer lies on the bottom of your foot."

Stopping in his tracks, the reaper looked down at his shoes.

"Damn it."

* * *

_It was a bit past two o' clock in the afternoon._

_ A young boy sat sleeping peacefully in a high-backed chair, a soft ray of ambient sunlight falling across his small frame. His child-like face was was spoiled by an unsightly black eye patch that covered his right eye. While normally this detracted from his innocent appeal, while he slept it was nothing more than a minor flaw to be dismissed. Sleeping was the only time his guard was truly let down; it was the only time he was allowed to be what he really was: a child._

_ The tall man clad in black touched his shoulder gently. The boy stirred slightly, but did not awaken from his slumber. The man smiled. _

In the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared.

"Good morning, Sebastian."

The butler snapped out of it. What was he doing? He pushed the memories into the back of his mind upon hearing the girl's soft voice, still laden with sleepiness. She stretched her arms and let out a big yawn, her back arching against the chair she had been napping in. Blinking her tired eyes, she stared torpidly at the butler.

"Did you have a nice nap, my lady?" he asked, placing a small cup of tea in front of her. The business card William had told him to deliver still remained in his pocket.

The teenager scooted herself closer to the table and leaned her head over the rising steam of the tea, inhaling deeply. Her face suddenly twisted into a strange look. "What kind of tea is this?"

"Lemon tea, of course," he told her, thinking the answer should have been obvious from scent alone. "I've heard it's good for your voice."

Persephone pouted. "I hate lemons."

"Is that so? If that is the case, I'll prepare another-"

"No need," she interrupted, lifting the teacup toward her with its saucer and bringing it to her lips. She took a drink, clenching her eyes tight in apparent disgust while forcing a smile. "If it's good for my voice, then I will endure it. But if you're just making this up, I'm going to be angry with you."

The demon butler smiled. "Your tenacity is quite admirable, my lady."

Placing the cup of tea back onto the desk, she caught sight of her leather-bound datebook and seemed to remember something. "I was mulling over the idea of performing somewhere in the near future. I'd like to think of it as something like a 'debut' for my new solo career," she explained casually. She spoke with the same amount of ease as one would if discussing the weather. Sebastian found it entertaining how sure she was of herself sometimes.

"If that is what you really want, then I can arrange something," Sebastian told her, a confident hand placed on his chest. "As your butler, I will do anything for you."

Talk about top service. Persephone almost felt a little _too_ spoiled. None of her servants in the past ever spoke to her with such devotedness. She blushed out of embarrassment. "Th-thank you, Sebastian. I was thinking," she said, opening up her datebook and turning to a page near the back. "The sooner I get back into the habit of singing, the better. Therefore, if you don't mind... would you please make the date for a week from today?"

Sebastian's face was frozen in a smile. A week? There was no way he would be able to arrange something so large **and **train her for it in such a short amount of time. Perhaps she was only joking. He looked at her face – it was as determined as ever. It was something to fear when her face became serious like that. He was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of deja-vu. This certainly wasn't the first time he was placed in an impossible situation. It seemed like all humans had a habit of grossly overestimating a demon's abilities. He nodded slowly. "Of course, my lady." What was he saying?

"And there's one more thing I must ask of you," she said softly, folding her hands together on top of the desk.

_Oh dear._

"There's someone I'd like to see while in London. It would be improper of me to call him myself, so I'd like for you to arrange a visit with him if he's available." She took a deep breath, her face becoming noticeably sullen as she spoke. "Am I asking too much of you?"

_Of course you are, you dim-witted little girl_.

Sebastian bowed. "Of course not," he said with infallible assurance. "I will begin the preparations right away." It was a good thing he didn't require sleep, because there would be little time for any. "I do hope you've finished your tea, because your lessons start now."

* * *

A clamor of voices and movement filled the train station. The air was thick with cigar smoke, engine steam, and the flowery scent of perfume worn by ladies hurriedly heading toward their destinations with their husbands and luggage. Determining if a person was coming or going, waiting or welcoming, was nearly impossible in the sea of people. Everyone seemed to have only one goal, and that was getting somewhere. Even the orphan children selling flowers and apples to passengers seemed to be swallowed up in the chaos.

Above the wall of sound the shrill howl of a steam engine whistle pierced the skies, amplified by the stone walls of the hollow terminal, signifying the departure of the big, black locomotive headed toward London. With the boilers fully heated and ready to go, the engine released another loud whistle of steam. Immediately after that, the train's powerful pistons began pumping and the train lurched forward. So began the journey toward England's capital city.

"Do you like London?"

Inside the train, Sebastian was sitting as still as a statue when he was shot the question. He turned his attention toward Persephone who was sitting across from him, wearing a traveling dress of a black colour – the colour of mourning.

"I don't quite know how to answer that, my lady," he told her, appearing perplexed. "I hold many memories in that city, yet I feel no real desire to return out of leisure. I don't _like_ nor _dislike_ it, I suppose."

Persephone was gazing out the window, watching the trees go by. She had a smile of bliss on her face. "I like London. It's such a beautiful town."

_Of course you think that. A spoiled little girl like yourself has never been exposed to the true heart of London,_ Sebastian thought. He gave one of his signature hospitable smiles. "I'm glad you think so. We'll be spending the next three days there, so let's make it certain that we take time to sight-see."

While he was sure she could hear him, Sebastian didn't think she was _listening_ to him. Her face made it apparent she was off in another world. Maybe she was distracted by something outside. Even if she was, it didn't matter. What servants had to say didn't matter at all. He accepted that.

Standing up to get a better look outside, Persephone pressed her lace-clad hands against the window. "I do hope we can, Sebastian. Let us pray those ugly, gray clouds up there don't decide to ruin our time," she said glumly. So she was listening after all.

The butler leaned forward and closer to the window, peering up at the sky with his young mistress. Up above, he could see for himself how dark and gloomy the sky had become, and thick, black clouds could be seen rolling across the sky in the distance – right over where they were headed. He was glad he packed an umbrella for him and Persephone.

Suddenly the cabin jerked as the train went over a rough patch of track, causing the clumsier of the two to lose balance. Persephone's face came in hard contact with the glass window with a loud thud. Falling back down in her seat, she covered the tender spot on her forehead with her hands as she rocked back and forth in pain. "Ow, ow, ow..."

Sebastian furrowed his brows in worry. "My lady, I think that is why suggest being seated at all times while the train is in motion."

Removing her hands from her head to expose the rather unsightly bump on her delicate skin, she puffed her cheeks up in indignation. "How was I supposed to know the train would jolt like that?" Looking quite embarrassed, she crossed her arms and avoided eye contact with Sebastian.

The small compartment they were seated in became completely devoid of conversation the rest of the way there. In the silence, Persephone began picking at a loose piece of lace on her glove to pass the time. She wished Sebastian would speak up to shatter the awkwardness they had found themselves in. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed through her head as she placed her hand over the swollen knot. It was tender and was sure to leave a bruise.

The rhythmic, soft sound of the train rolling over the tracks paired with the gentle swaying of the passenger compartment eventually became a lullaby for the sleepy young lady. Slowly she forgot about her embarrassment as she began daydreaming of London. With her head rested gently against the back of the seat, she let her eyes slowly close as drops of water began falling from the sky, landing lightly against the outside of the window. The last thing she remembered before falling into a light slumber was Sebastian placing a blanket around her.

She was lucky to have him as her servant.

* * *

((Sorry for the Will bashing in this chapter. I love the guy to death, but he's so entertaining to pick on. Also, I have a big question for my readers: How do you guys feel about Persephone as a character? Does she seem real/believable? Is her personality consistent? I'd like some feedback on that. I, personally, don't feel like I'm portraying her as how I originally wanted to. I'm a little down on that. It would really help me out if I got some more opinions. I don't think it's _too, _too late to fix her... I think. ))


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